


Adjusting Our Course

by VampireNaomi



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Canadian Shack, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-15 14:47:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13033419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampireNaomi/pseuds/VampireNaomi
Summary: Zenigata is sure he's cornered Lupin in the Canadian wilderness, but things take a turn he doesn't expect.





	Adjusting Our Course

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NaughtyAnne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaughtyAnne/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide! Thanks to [irrationalno](http://archiveofourown.org/users/irrationalno) for being my beta!

He was going to die.

The people in town had told him as much, but Zenigata hadn’t listened. There was a snowstorm on its way. The snowmobile he’d rented didn’t have enough fuel for a return trip if he got lost. And he would get lost, they’d said over and over again. He should wait for the storm to pass so that someone could be his guide. Whatever he was looking for, it wasn’t worth throwing his life away.

Ha, what did they know, Zenigata had thought as he’d ignored all their sensible advice and frantic pleading. Catching Lupin was worth everything. Certain that his determination alone would keep him warm, he’d left the town behind and headed in the direction where his anonymous tip indicated Lupin to be.

However, it looked like he’d severely overestimated the fire of his passion. The snowmobile had gotten stuck when he’d driven it into a ditch. Up to his knees in snow and the rising wind howling between the trees, Zenigata had for the first time felt a stab of worry at his situation. He could no longer make it back to town. He’d have to find Lupin.

And if he didn't? He’d thought he was ready to give up his life to arrest him, but freezing to death here in the middle of nowhere in the Canadian wilderness was pointless. He wouldn’t bring Lupin any closer to being captured. He’d leave behind nothing that’d help those who took up the case after him. He was just causing them more work because they’d have to come look for his body.

He’d made a desperate decision, then. For the time being, he’d focus on surviving the storm. He’d been in enough tight spots that he’d picked up some skills along the way. If he could find shelter against the wind and start a fire using the materials in his backpack, he just might make it through the night.

That had been three hours ago. He’d dug a hole in the snow under a fallen tree and crawled into it with his tent that he had no hopes of putting up. He hadn’t managed a fire. He wasn’t sure if the tent was protecting him from the wind or if he was already so cold that he no longer felt it. Whenever he tried to use his lighter to warm up, his fingers refused to do what he wanted.

What a fool he was, he thought miserably. This wasn’t the first time that he let his obsession to capture Lupin cloud any and all common sense, but it’d be the last. No glory or point in this kind of death. They’d remember him as the idiot who got himself killed.

Zenigata lowered his head and sniffled. He was fine with death, but not this. He didn’t want to die alone and with no purpose. What point had there been in his life if it was to end like this? He hoped Lupin would remember him fondly.

The thought of Lupin traveling the world, seeing new things, meeting new people – and stealing, he had to remind himself – without a thought spared to him was enough to break his heart. The best he could hope for was a toast in his name and an amused smile as Lupin recalled that there’d once been a buffoon of an inspector chasing him around the world. Maybe on the tenth anniversary of his death, if he was lucky.

It made him so miserable that he wished he could let someone know he wanted something like that in his obituary. Koichi Zenigata, the man who never caught Lupin III. No success as an inspector, and even less as a man. It wasn't that he only wanted to arrest Lupin. He also wanted _him_ , but of course he'd long since accepted that couldn't be. He could arrest Lupin, or he could love him, but both dreams couldn't come true.

Of course, with Lupin being the way he was, it wasn't hard to choose which dream to pursue. A lot of people called Zenigata an idiot, but he wasn't. He knew all too well in his heart that hoping Lupin saw him the same way was too much to ask for.

He was beginning to feel groggy, and he knew that if he closed his eyes, he wouldn’t open them again. He had to stay awake, no matter how tempting it was to go to sleep and get this over with. Zenigata stuffed his numb hands into his pockets and fished around until he found a pack of cigarettes. If he was going to die, at least he would enjoy his last smoke.

With great effort, he was able to open the pack and take out a cigarette. It was the only one left. Very fitting, like this was destiny. Now he just had to light it. But like before, his fingers wouldn’t obey, and he couldn’t flick the lighter quickly enough to get a spark.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, the cigarette dangling from his lips. Then, his fingers slipped, and the lighter fell from them and disappeared into the snow at his feet. He began fumbling for it, but he couldn’t find it in the dark. Finally, he leaned back against the tree trunk, heart heavy and throat tight.

Failure from start to finish, he thought as his eyes began to droop. No point in fighting the inevitable. He should just –

Sudden light blinded him and forced him to squeeze his eyes shut. Surely he couldn’t be dead already. But what else but the afterlife could that be?

“Pops! Thinking about hibernating through the winter? Sorry to break it to you, but humans can’t do that.”

“L-lupin!” He tried to jump to his feet, but the numbness in his limbs and the tent fabric all around him made him fall down face first. “I’ve got you!” he went on, spitting out snow and struggling to get up.

“No, no, this time, I’ve got you,” Lupin said and knelt in front of him. He started to unwrap the tent from around him and helped him back up, and all Zenigata could do was stare at him. The flashlight on the ground wasn’t enough for him to really see much of him, but he heard him as he blabbed meaningless pleasantries to him.

“You’re going to have to put some work into using your legs,” Lupin said and tried to worm himself under his arms to lift him up.

Zenigata couldn’t form an answer, but he found the strength to stand up. Perhaps having Lupin there put his body on auto pilot because he realized he didn’t have to think about what he was doing as he let the man guide him away from his make-shift shelter. Lupin was a head shorter, so it was a little difficult for him to drag him along, and they fell over and collapsed in the snow once.

Where had Lupin come from, he wondered as he lay on his back and stared up at the black trees towering over them. It was hours since his anonymous tip. He should have been long gone. Had he come back? Why? Was he lost, too? Would they die together?

“Just a little further, Pops,” Lupin said, tugging at him to make him get up again.

“No, leave me. Don’t throw your life away trying to save me. You’re still young. You can turn your life around and become a better person.”

Lupin burst out laughing, and as much as his high-pitched giggling grated on Zenigata’s nerves, there was something reassuring about it. Lupin wouldn't be laughing at him if he was really going to die. He wasn’t that terrible.

“You’re delirious. Come on, let’s go. Some blankets and hot soup will fix that.” Lupin paused and pointed the flashlight at him, making Zenigata groan and try to turn away. “At least I hope so. Would be pretty nasty if you lost a finger to the cold or something. We’ll see.”

They made it back to the spot where Zenigata had left his snowmobile. There was another one close by, and Lupin forced him to look him directly in the eyes as he spoke to him.

“You’re going to have to stay conscious and hold onto me, okay? It’s not a long way.”

Long way where, Zenigata wanted to ask, but he just nodded. He could do the questioning later.

Whatever happened next would always remain a blurry mess in Zenigata’s mind. He remembered flashes of the snowmobile’s engine starting, the wind in his ears, and the darkness around him, but strangely enough, not the biting cold. In his memory, he always felt warm and safe, and he was sure it was the knowledge that, for whatever reason, Lupin had come for him.

***

An airplane. That was the first thing Zenigata noticed when he next opened his eyes. Maybe he was dead and his spirit was flying in the sky. But then he thought, the airplane was one of the old ones that required someone to start the propeller by hand and why would anyone be flying one of those these days? And the plane wasn't moving anyway.

Once he realized that it wasn't a real airplane but a model of one that was hanging from the ceiling, he felt stupid. He spent a moment blinking and trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Above him, there was a log ceiling with thick blocks of wood forming a checkerboard pattern. The model airplane was only one of the gadgets and pieces of machinery that were hanging from the beams.

He stared at them in a confused daze. Was he inside someone's workshop? Had Lupin built – 

Lupin!

Zenigata sat up and realized multiple things at once. One, he was in a bed. Two, the room he was in was full of junk and cardboard boxes whose contents he couldn't see from this angle, but they made him feel like he'd been dumped inside a storage. Three, Lupin was in the room.

“Lupin! You're under arrest!”

The fourth realization came only after he'd jumped out of bed. He was naked, except for large woolly socks that weren't his. This was such a bizarre turn of events for him that for a moment he couldn't do more than stand in the middle of the room, still pointing an accusatory finger at Lupin.

Lupin was sitting on the floor, leaning his back on a pile of boxes and with a book in his hands. He lifted a brow as his eyes wandered up and down Zenigata's body, and though he didn't say anything, Zenigata felt like he was being mocked. He wanted to dive back into the bed and hide, but he figured that if he was to preserve the last shreds of his pride as a man, he had to act like he was unaffected by the situation.

“Good to see you up and about. One less thing to worry about,” Lupin said. He closed the book and put it down.

“Don't move!”

“And why not?”

“Because I'm taking you in! You're my prisoner! We're going straight to the nearest police station.”

Lupin let out a little laugh. “Well, you aren't entirely wrong. I am a prisoner. Just not yours.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

Lupin got up and moved aside some of the boxes he'd been leaning on. Behind them, there was a small window. It was completely covered in snow.

“The storm's been raging for over a day. Neither of us is going anywhere until the weather clears,” Lupin explained. The smile on his face fell a little but didn't quite disappear. “Imagine if you were out there right now. I bet I'd have to start calling you Popsicle rather than Pops.”

Zenigata supposed enough time had passed that he could cover himself without seeming pathetic. He grabbed the blanket off the bed and wrapped it around himself since he couldn't see his clothes anywhere in the room.

“What's going on? Where are my clothes?”

“I found you in the storm, remember? You were half-frozen, so I had to strip us both naked and warm you with my own body heat, and then –”

“What?” The blanket fell at his feet as he made a jump forwards and grabbed Lupin by the collar of his shirt. “You did what?”

Lupin laughed and patted at Zenigata's hand, as if soothing an angry beast. “Kidding, just kidding. It was only the blanket and a few hot water bottles. Of course I had to take off your clothes, but I assure you, I was the perfect gentleman.”

“You? A gentleman? Don't make me laugh,” Zenigata said, but he let go and backed away.

As he picked up the blanket and sat down on the bed, it occurred to him how nice and warm it was in the room. His last clear memory was one of despair and loneliness. He'd been sure his life would see a meaningless end. Without Lupin, he'd be dead. Was it just a lucky coincidence that he'd run into him?

“I guess I should thank you,” he said. “But how did you find me? What were you doing out there in that storm?”

Lupin brushed at his shirt to straighten it. He was wearing a black sweater instead of the usual dress shirt, but Zenigata supposed it only made sense in this kind of climate. It looked good on him, sharp but homey, and it made Zenigata feel self-conscious in his bare skin.

“Someone I know in town radioed me to let me know you'd come after me. I knew you'd be in trouble.”

“Huh? You came looking for me?”

“Sure,” Lupin said with a shrug.

“But... why?”

“Oh, come on, Pops. Don't be tense. Do you really think I'd leave you out there to die?” Lupin's smile was the sweetest thing Zenigata had ever seen. For once, he didn't think he was mocking him for being too slow to keep up with him. Lupin had come for him. He'd risked an icy death just for him, and the thought warmed him more than the socks and blanket ever could.

Of course, it would be ridiculous to let himself get carried away. Lupin was a decent person underneath his slimy surface. He wasn't the type to let someone freeze to death, even if he stood to benefit from it. All this meant was that he'd helped a fellow man.

“Thank you,” he said, reining in how he actually wanted to jump at Lupin and bawl in gratitude. “I'm your enemy who wants to arrest you, so you could have just left me to die. You may be a criminal, but you're a man of honor and principles!”

“Oh, stop, you're making me blush. And enemy is a pretty harsh word. Rival has a much nicer sound, doesn't it?”

It did. It was what Zenigata called Lupin inside his head. His fated rival. If the world ever ended, the two of them would be the last ones standing because how could one go down without the other? He had half a notebook filled with dramatic thoughts like that, ready for the day when he started writing his memoirs.

He'd dedicate an entire chapter to how Lupin had saved his life so selflessly. That was where he'd announce how much he respected and admired him despite his criminal ways since he couldn't say it to his face. And if Lupin ever read the book in prison, maybe he'd understand.

He began to look around. “Where did you put my clothes?”

“I hung them by the fireplace. I'm sure you can get back into them by now.”

“Yeah, it's... chilly.” Not at all, the blanket felt like it was suffocating him, and Zenigata was worried that steam would escape if he lifted it.

“What's this place anyway? One of your hideouts? What're you plotting in the middle of nowhere like this?” he asked as he followed Lupin to a larger room.

He hadn't been to Lupin's safe houses too often. He'd raided plenty of places where he'd been bunking, but they'd been hotel rooms or rented apartments, temporary places where he and his gang stayed but didn't live. All he ever found in such places was piles of garbage and a card wishing him a good day and better luck next time.

This place was full of signs of permanent life. The room Lupin led him to was only large enough for a table with four chairs around it, a few mismatching drawers, and some space in front of the fireplace. Most flat surfaces were covered in blueprints, machine parts, wires, tools and little gadgets that he was both curious and terrified to touch because he had no idea what they did. For all he knew, they could be weapons. 

How anyone could cook or spend time in the middle of such a mess, he didn't know, but Lupin didn't seem at all bothered. He walked over to the fireplace on the other side of the room and picked up Zenigata's clothes from on top of a chair, then tossed them to him.

“Looks good. Almost a pity. It might have been fun to see you wear some of my grandpa's old things.”

“What? Your grandfather's?” He'd only seen illustrations of the famous thief, but it seemed that lanky body type ran in the family. He'd never fit into anything the man had worn.

“My _other_ grandfather's,” Lupin said.

His other...? Zenigata needed a moment to remember that of course Lupin had another grandfather. It was obvious, but he'd never thought about that, just like he'd never spared much time to wondering about his mother. Lupin was all about the famous name and family legacy.

“I thought the other side of your family was Japanese,” he said. He looked like it, and he seemed to have a particular fondness for the country despite being a man of the world.

Lupin shrugged. “Doesn't mean they can't have lived in Canada.”

Zenigata waited, but Lupin didn't offer him a further explanation. He loved to boast about his French heritage and legacy, but then, that side of his family was all crime and glory. Maybe his mother's family was more down to earth and he didn't want to pull them into that kind of life. Lupin had enemies, and – 

And he was one of them, regardless of any flowery talk of fated rivals. If he knew the identity of any of Lupin's relatives, he'd go and question them. If Lupin was protecting them, he couldn't trust him with any of this information.

It stung, but he knew he couldn't blame him.

“Is there somewhere I can get dressed?” he asked, clutching the blanket around him.

“What for? I've already seen everything.”

“That's different,” Zenigata muttered. He'd been too surprised by the whole scenario to really think about the fact that he was naked in front of Lupin, but now it was the only thing on his mind. And somehow, the idea of getting dressed while he watched felt too intimate.

Lupin let out a theatrical sigh and turned around. “I won't peek, I promise.”

Zenigata bit back an annoyed retort and pulled on his clothes as quickly as he could. As if he trusted him. He was so prepared to yell at him if he broke his promise that he felt a little deflated when Lupin never stole a glimpse.

“Where are all my handcuffs?” he asked, searching his pockets.

“I took them. We're going to be stuck for a while, and I think it's simpler if we skip the part where you put them on me and I wriggle out of them in five seconds. I'll give them back once we can leave.”

Right, Lupin had mentioned the snowstorm. Zenigata looked around for windows, but they were all blocked with shutters on the outside.

“I don't understand what's going on. What are you doing here in the middle of nowhere?” he asked.

“Everyone else is busy with something, so I thought I'd use the opportunity to sort some things out. I'm a little surprised to see you here. I thought I was being careful about covering my trail.”

Zenigata let out a triumphant chuckle. “You can't hide from me! I'll find you no matter where you go! And once the storm is over, I'm taking you in!”

“You're worse than super glue,” Lupin said with a disapproving frown. “But make yourself comfortable. There are enough supplies to last through the storm. I have a few things I need to get done.”

“If you think I'll just sit around and let you work on some dastardly plot –”

”Nothing of the sort, Pops. This is personal.” There was a wistful tone in Lupin's voice that ate away some of Zenigata's eagerness. Though he'd just mentioned his grandfather, Zenigata had already forgotten that this place wasn't one of his typical hideouts.

The look on Lupin's face made him recall making the funeral arrangements for his mother and the lonely wake with only a few relatives showing up. He supposed it was possible that Lupin's grandparents were still around since he was only in his thirties, but if he was acting like this...

He drew a deep breath and decided to forget about his resolve to arrest him for the time being. It was the least he could do after Lupin had saved his life. As soon as the storm was over, things would go back to normal, but for now, he'd let Lupin do what he had to. It wasn't like arresting him meant anything right now when they couldn't go outside anyway.

“I understand. Don't let me be in your way,” he said.

Back when he'd still lived in Japan and had his own place, Zenigata had been messy. It had felt good not having to care if the dishes piled up or there were clothes on the floor if he was having a hard time at work. Once he'd left home and started chasing Lupin, he'd had to grow out of that habit. He had to be ready to leave at a moment's notice, and he didn't want to be a bother to the people who had to stay.

He supposed that was one reason why he felt so annoyed when he came upon hideouts where Lupin and his friends had stayed. Not only were they horrible criminals, but they had the luxury of leaving all their messes behind for other people to sort out.

He picked up the blanket and went to take it back to the bed where he'd woken up. Lupin didn't follow, so he had a little time to explore the room. The boxes he'd seen earlier were full of books, clothes, and tools. He doubted it was a storage room, however, since there was a bed and the skin of some animal on the floor as a carpet. It looked more like a bedroom that somebody had started using as a space to store things when it was no longer being used for its intended purpose.

Most of the books were in Japanese, which didn't surprise him. Surely Lupin's grandparents had wanted him to learn their language. There were old children's books that he'd read, too, and he realized that the stay at the cabin might not become nostalgic for just Lupin.

Had this been Lupin's room when he'd been staying with his grandparents? It was strange to imagine him here, playing in the wilderness. He'd pictured Lupin growing up in a manor in the French countryside, or maybe amongst the glory and glitter of high society in Paris.

He put back the books and returned to the larger room. Lupin had made himself busy by pulling tools and gadgets out of a large wooden trunk and making an even bigger mess on the floor. He'd rolled up the sleeves of his sweater. There was nothing left of the amused, mocking smile that usually curved his lips when he was talking to him.

Zenigata tried not to make noise, but of course that was the exact moment when he stumbled over a bucket full of screws and made them scatter all over the floor. He felt the rattle in every ridge of his backbone as it traveled down his body.

“Sorry,” he muttered and began to clean up the mess. He didn't look at Lupin, certain that he'd get only ridicule if he did so, and not wanting to deal with it.

“Tidying up sounds like a pretty good idea. It's just hard to decide where to start,” Lupin said and kicked away the box he'd been rummaging in, then lied down on his back on the floor.

Zenigata turned to look up at the various gadgets that were hanging from the ceiling and on the walls. 

“Your grandfather was one of those disorganized genius types?”

“Not at all. He liked things neat and organized. But grandma left a mess behind wherever she went.” Lupin gestured at the room. “She was the disorganized genius. When grandpa was no longer there to clean up after her, well, you see what happened.”

Zenigata wondered if he should have said something comforting, but Lupin didn't seem sad, only thoughtful.

“I always wondered where you got your habit to make your own tech from,” he said. The original Lupin had been flashy, but as far as he was aware, he'd never made use of the kind of imaginative inventions that were typical of his grandson, like watches that doubled as grappling hooks.

He wanted to know more about Lupin's mysterious grandparents and mother, but he'd promised himself he'd let Lupin do what he'd come here for and not get in the way. Maybe he could even be useful in some way to pay Lupin back for all he'd done for him.

“Can I make dinner?” he asked. He hoped Lupin would say yes. He didn't know how long he'd been unconscious, but it had to have been long because he now realized he was starving.

Lupin let out an agreeable sound. “It's more like lunch, and there's not going to be much cooking involved. All I've got here is canned food.”

“That's fine.” He wasn't used to gourmet meals anyway. In fact, it was a relief because now Lupin wouldn't be able to make fun of his cooking and say that it was no wonder someone with his miserable salary didn't know how to make braised chicken, or something equally fancy.

The kitchen was a separate room, small and just as covered in junk as everything else. There were wooden crates loaded with cans on the counter. Lupin hadn't lied when he'd said he had enough supplies to last them both through the storm.

Just how long had he been planning to stay here? A man could live at least a few weeks on this stuff. It wasn't like Lupin to retreat to such a quiet place for so long. Was there something wrong with him? Was he having trouble with the others? Didn't he have anyone to help him out?

With a new burst of determination, Zenigata grabbed a can of beef soup and another with green beans. If nothing else, he'd make sure Lupin got enough to eat while they were staying here. After a moment of consideration, he added a can of meatballs to his dish.

“You must be hungry,” Lupin said when Zenigata returned to the main room to heat the food in a pot in the fireplace.

“A full stomach eases a man's worries.”

“Oh? Didn't know you had worries.”

Zenigata moved the beans around in the broth with a wooden spoon. “I meant you.”

“Didn't know that I had worries, either.” Lupin's voice held a light tone, and Zenigata knew he was putting on an act of self-confidence and non-chalance. Lupin didn't like being vulnerable. A lot of men didn't, especially in that line of work, but Zenigata had always thought Lupin's group was close-knit enough that they could rely on each other.

“Why aren't the others here?”

“Hey, everybody needs a break. You'd get tired of Goemon's wisdoms after a while, too, and Jigen would nag and complain about snow the whole time if he was here. No point in even asking Fujiko. She doesn't like holidays with no beaches.”

Zenigata didn't buy a word of that. Not when it felt like Lupin's good mood was made of crystal and one wrong move would break it. He shouldn't poke, but it was difficult to see Lupin like that, building a wall around him when he'd come to a place where he wouldn't have to hide anything.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

Lupin looked confused. “About what?”

“That you're stuck with me. I know you came here to be alone because there's something on your mind.”

“It's fine. I have ways to kick you out that door if you start getting on my nerves.”

“I'd like to see that,” Zenigata muttered. Lupin was crafty, but if it came to a pure physical brawl, he wouldn't feel too bad about betting on himself. He'd earned his black belt, and running after someone as slippery as Lupin kept him in shape that most people his age could only dream of.

“How long will this storm last?” he asked as they were eating.

“A couple of days at most.”

“Won't we be buried?” Zenigata turned to look at the windows. As they were covered to protect them from the wind, he couldn't see how bad the storm was or how much snow was already on the ground.

Lupin didn't look bothered. “Then we'll dig our way out.”

“Can the roof take all the snow? And what of the fire? If the chimney gets blocked –”

“Relax,” Lupin cut him off. ”The roof has two layers. The one on top functions as a catapult so we can just snap those chains loose to make the snow fly away, then pull them back down.”

Zenigata turned to look for chains coming down from the ceiling. He hadn't noticed anything like that because of all the junk, but even knowing that they were there didn't make it easier. He was about to ask Lupin what he was talking about, but then he saw the grin on his face.

“Hey! You're messing with me!”

“Sorry, sorry! You make it too easy. And what other entertainment am I supposed to have here? We have no TV.”

“You could use the chance to get used to boredom since you're going to prison as soon as we get out of here,” Zenigata said.

Lupin gave him another grin, mouth so full he looked like a hamster. Zenigata glared at him in return but decided he liked Lupin better when he was being goofy rather than putting up an act that he was fine.

***

For the rest of the day, or what Zenigata assumed was the rest of the day, he tried to stay out of Lupin's way while still keeping an eye on him. Guilt gnawed at him, but he tried to reason it as his sense of duty nagging that he was letting himself get more personally invested in Lupin's mood than was appropriate.

Lupin kept switching between serious and cheerful, and it didn't take long for Zenigata to recognize what caused the pattern. Whenever Lupin lost himself in his work of sorting out the contents of piles of junk, pulling out everyday items that no doubt held some meaningful memory, the smile dropped off his face. He looked calm, then, and Zenigata couldn't help but think it was because he forgot that he wasn't alone in the cabin.

By contrast, whenever Lupin looked up from his work and noticed him, the grins and sparkling eyes were back. It was to disarm him and make him think everything was fine so Zenigata wouldn't look closer at what he was doing. Lupin didn't want him snooping around, so he had to keep up the act that nothing important was going on.

I could help him, he found himself thinking more than once. If something was bothering Lupin, he wanted to make him forget about it.

He'd taken a brief tour of the cabin to see how big it was. Apart from the tiny kitchen, the main room and the storage he'd woken up in, there was one bedroom and one more storage space for supplies. Lupin had told him there was an outhouse down the hill, and though Zenigata was doing his best not to think about it, he was having trouble accepting that a man known for his high class taste in everything could be so casual about it.

The wind was picking up and howling somewhere above them. Zenigata brought his hands as close to the fire as he dared, remembering the cold and the despair he'd felt earlier. There was enough firewood in the second storage room to keep the fire going for days.

Had Lupin been alone, he guessed he would have had to wake up regularly at night to keep an eye on the fire. Zenigata glanced at him. It wasn't much, but at least he could help Lupin do that.

Lupin was sitting in the middle of the room, a wooden crate between his legs. He'd spent almost an hour taking things out of it and was now surrounded by papers, notebooks, tools, and gadgets that Zenigata wasn't sure even had a function. One of them looked like a spatula nailed onto a rolling pin.

“Hmm...” Lupin leaned his chin on his palm and spent a moment watching all the items he'd discovered. Then, he began to put them back into the crate. Once finished, he got up to put the crate aside and brought a new one out in its place.

Zenigata watched him in confusion. Was there any purpose in what he was doing? His puzzlement only grew once he realized that this crate was full of empty tin cans. Who would even keep those, and why would Lupin bother to take them all out individually instead of just throwing them away? It made no sense.

Lupin seemed to realize the same because he stopped what he was doing and stared forlornly at the can in his hand for a long time before putting it back.

“Hey, Pops, you up for coffee?”

Zenigata jumped to his feet. “What? Oh, I can make some!”

Lupin gestured for him to sit back down and got up himself. He made a show of stretching his back, but Zenigata was sure that something about the contents of the crate had discouraged him. His curiosity got the best of him, so while Lupin was filling a coffee pot with bottled water in the kitchen, he crawled closer to the crate and stole a look inside.

Just empty cans. He didn't know what secret he'd thought he'd find inside. He picked up the one Lupin had been holding and turned it around in his hands. The label was in French, but the faded picture showed a pile of beans and gravy on a plate.

“Nothing in there, Pops,” Lupin said as he returned, and the can made a loud clatter as Zenigata dropped it back among the others.

“Sorry! I didn't mean to pry!”

Lupin lifted a brow at him, like he couldn't even be bothered to respond. What other reason could Zenigata have to dig through the box?

“Sorry,” he said again.

“It's fine. There's nothing in there. And I never said you can't look.” Lupin went to hang the pot on a hook above the fire.

“But this is your secret, isn't it? I don't understand what anything here is used for, but I can tell it's important to you. I'm sure that whatever it is that you're here to do, you wanted to do alone. That's why you didn't bring the others. And now you're stuck with me.” Zenigata didn't like how apologetic he sounded, but he'd never been good at hiding how he felt.

“That's not what a good cop's supposed to say,” Lupin said.

“I'm not just a cop. I'm also a man, and I know when I should be giving another man some space.”

He expected Lupin to laugh at him, or at least flash him one of his mocking smiles and call him sentimental and old-fashioned. He did neither. He picked up some wood from by his side and tossed it into the fire. The light of the flames danced on his face. Earlier, a generator of some kind had offered them a little light around the cabin, but Lupin had turned it off, and all they had now was the fire.

“Actually...” Lupin said, giving the coffee pot small shoves with an old iron poker. Zenigata felt an urge to tell him to stop or he'd spill the water.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Actually, I don't mind having you around.”

It was Zenigata's turn to laugh. “Ha, you can't fool me! Whatever you came here to do, having me around is a problem. Why else would you pretend to be sorting out empty cans? I'm not dumb. You're just trying to be coy to throw me off, but as soon as I go to sleep, you're putting your real plans to motion!” Zenigata grinned and ignored the less than impressed look on Lupin's face. “Too bad for you, justice never sleeps!”

“That's reassuring,” Lupin said. He wrapped a towel around his hand and took the pot off the fire, then added some coffee into the water. “Just to be sure, I'll make this extra strong for you.”

Some minutes later, the coffee was ready, and Lupin poured them both a generous mug. He'd said it was strong, but that wasn't a bad thing. Zenigata wondered if Lupin knew how he liked his coffee.

A second later, he wondered if he should drink anything Lupin was offering. His fingers were swift enough to slip something into his mug that'd knock him out. Then he could proceed with his plans. Then again, he could have done that when he'd been unconscious.

Suddenly frustrated, he didn't know what to think anymore. Lupin was a thief, a liar, a scoundrel and an all around stain on society. He couldn't be trusted. At the same time, he was one of the few men in the world whose hands Zenigata would put his life in. Because even if he was a criminal, Lupin had a sense of honor that Zenigata felt most people in the world lacked.

He supposed it wasn't Lupin's list of crimes that bothered him the most. It was his complete disregard for the common good and how his own desires were always the top concern for him. Zenigata firmly believed that it was the responsibility of every individual to do what they could to make the world a little better for everyone, even if it meant enduring personal sacrifices. Lupin was the opposite – he took what he wanted and didn't let anyone or anything hold him back. He was selfish.

Looks could be deceptive. Right now, in the flickering, warm light of the fire, Lupin looked anything but. His eyes were down on his coffee, his long fingers holding the mug gingerly near the top where it wasn't hot. It was strange to see Lupin so serious. It made him look like a different person, someone whose next move or words Zenigata couldn't predict even though nobody knew Lupin as well as he did. It was an unsettling feeling.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. If people were acting strangely, they always had something weighing down on them.

He waited for the toothy grin that would have been a sign that everything was normal, or at least that Lupin was still up for pretending so. When it didn't come, Zenigata put aside his coffee and cleared his throat.

“Is there something wrong with the others?” It was rare to find Lupin alone like this. Jigen was usually with him, and if not him, then Fujiko. Zenigata had assumed Lupin had secret plans of his own, but perhaps it was more than that. Maybe something had happened to his friends. Lupin could have come to this place to plan revenge.

Thankfully, mentioning his gang finally got a smile out of Lupin.

“They're better off than we are. Fujiko's beach house is a paradise.”

“Oh? Where is it?”

“You really think I'll tell you?”

Zenigata let out an embarrassed sound. He'd asked out of real curiosity, not because he was planning to barge in there to arrest them. He was slipping out of his role. Then again, it didn't feel strange to be so casual with Lupin. They'd laid down their arms and worked together plenty of times before.

“Why are you here, then?” he asked.

“I said I'm sorting things out. Don't you ever organize your trash?”

“I don't buy that for a second.”

Lupin gave him a pouty look. He sighed dramatically and took a long swig of his coffee even though it still had to be hot enough to burn his throat. He grimaced and groaned in disgust, but Zenigata didn't know if it was at the pain or the fact that he'd caught his lie.

“You don't usually see through my lies right away,” Lupin said.

“Your lies are usually a lot better.”

“Ha. Got me.”

Zenigata had often dreamed of Lupin saying those words to him, but not in this tired tone. He wanted to hear them after he'd outwitted him in a fair battle and to hear some grudging respect in Lupin's voice, maybe even admiration. He wanted to defeat him one day, absolutely, but he didn't want to break him.

“I'm not doing anything here that you need to worry about. It's personal,” Lupin said.

“I believe that much. But just because it's personal doesn't mean I won't worry about it.”

“In that case, I wish you'd believe me about the rest, too.”

“Huh?”

Lupin gave him an exasperated look. “When I said I don't mind having you around. On the contrary. I'm glad you're here.”

Zenigata tried to make sense of that, but he couldn't grasp it. Lupin was never happy to see him pop up out of nowhere. Amused, perhaps even tiredly affectionate like he was an annoying elderly relative, sure.

“Why?” he asked, feeling suspicious. He'd made a fool of himself before by falling for Lupin's act of reaching out to him.

“I guess I like having people around me,” Lupin said. He turned to look up to the crannies in the ceiling where the light of the fire didn't reach. “I thought this place would feel small now that I'm older, but it's bigger than ever.”

“When was the last time you were here?”

“The summer when I was fourteen. Didn't really have time to camp in the wilderness after that.”

Zenigata guessed that becoming a master at his craft took time and effort, even when the craft was without any merit. Lupin had a brilliant mind, but even he couldn't be the greatest thief in the world without practice and experience. Zenigata realized he didn't know a thing about where Lupin had learned his tricks, or how. He'd just appeared one day, confident in his skills and slick as an eel.

If the wistful look on Lupin's face proved anything, it was that his mother's side of the family hadn't had much to do with him growing up as a thief. Zenigata found himself wondering if Lupin had had to make a choice between two different lives, the way he'd had to give up his life in Japan to pursue him.

“That's a long time,” he said. Maybe Lupin hadn't seen his grandparents after that summer. If so, no wonder he was acting strange, being back here. And what of his mother?

Lupin agreed with a hum into his coffee.

“Not that I can judge. I haven't been home in a long time,” Zenigata added quickly.

“Sorry. I guess that's my fault.”

“I wouldn't be chasing you if I hated it.”

“Oh, so you like it?”

Zenigata lifted his chin defiantly. He wouldn't be taken in by Lupin's teasing tone and acknowledge what he was insinuating. Lupin could make fun of his bumbling ways, his failures to arrest him, his salary, anything but his feelings.

“It's my job,” he said.

“That's not a no,” Lupin said. He sighed deeply. ”I want a smoke.”

Zenigata had seen a pack in the kitchen, the brand that Lupin always smoked. He was about to ask why he didn't just get up and have one, but Lupin kept on talking.

“Grandma couldn't stand two things. Smoking and thieves. I think that's the one thing that didn't change about her in the end.”

“Oh?”

“I can't know since I wasn't here, but the people from town told me she became a completely different person after grandpa died. Stopped coming over, so they had to bring her food, wouldn't let anyone in the cabin, and when they got worried about her, they had to get in through the window because the door was blocked by so much junk that she'd dragged in from who knows where.”

“Oh... Uh...” Zenigata doubted that was a lie. If Lupin had said his grandmother had died in a blaze of glory when some flying invention went down, he would have rolled his eyes, but this was too mundane and sad to be made up.

He looked around. The mess he'd noticed earlier made the cabin seem bleak now. It wasn't really Lupin's grandmother that he was feeling sorry for since he hadn't known her, but he found himself thinking how easy it was to imagine Lupin in the same situation. If he lost the people important to him, would he also hoard things he'd treasured and surround himself with them, to recreate a little of the world he'd loved?

“So, you're here to... take inventory? Tidy up? That's your project?”

“Felt like a good time to do it. The others are busy with their own things.”

“You didn't want their help?”

Lupin laughed a little. ”A man has his pride and won't show some of his wounds to other people, even his best friends. Or so I thought.” He made a move like he was about to take a gulp of his coffee, but he realized the mug was empty and gave it a brief, irritated glare. ”Then I got here. It's a lot harder than I thought it'd be. I shouldn't have come alone.”

“A lot of memories, huh?”

“Mm-hm. But they're all happy. I'm more bothered by all the times I wasn't here.”

“Well, you were busy, so...”

“Busy stealing treasures and fooling around. Aren't you supposed to tell me off me for things like that?”

“I'm supposed to do a lot more than that! I'm putting you behind bars! But since that has to wait until we get out of here, I don't mind trying to make you feel better. I know what it's like to feel guilty that you weren't there for someone.”

He needed to put a smile back on Lupin's face. He couldn't arrest someone who looked like that. And more importantly, he felt a twinge of unease at seeing Lupin like this. He wasn't even trying to appear larger than life; he was only a man now. The little glimpses of his past that he'd let Zenigata see were so personal that they were making him scared that he'd say the wrong thing and drive Lupin back behind the wall that usually stood between them. If that happened, Lupin might never talk to him like this a second time.

He wouldn't be able to bear that. Things might never be like he wanted, but looking at Lupin's face glow in the flickering light of the fire, he knew he didn't want this to be the last time he saw him like that.

“I'll help you,” he said. Lupin wouldn't ask. He'd talk and leave it hanging in the air between them, but he'd never take the step that'd leave him completely open.

Offering his help wasn't an easy thing to do, either. Lupin could throw it back to his face in so many ways and laugh at him. But Zenigata didn't mind taking that risk. He supposed one of the advantages of being older was that his pride was no longer all that drove him. Compassion was more important.

“Yeah?” Lupin asked. “You already that bored, Pops?”

“Don't be stupid. After all this time, do I really have to say that I care about you? If there's something I can do to stop you feeling miserable, I'll do it.”

“What if I say I'd be sooooo miserable in prison?”

Zenigata snorted. “Fine, if you don't need my help –”

“That's not what I said. I just think it's funny how you can say you care about me even as you're trying to put me away for life. Why's that? You'd prefer me after prison has changed me? You think you know better than me what I need?”

Zenigata's first instinct was to feel insulted that Lupin would even suggest that, but Lupin's tone wasn't accusatory. He couldn't really think that was why Zenigata was doing everything. It sounded more like he needed reassurance that his belief was correct. That it mattered that much to him was enough to calm him down.

“Of course not. I don't think it's a contradiction.” Zenigata stretched his feet a little closer to the fire, which had grown smaller. Or perhaps the night outside was seeping inside the cabin. ”I'm just doing what I think is right.”

Lupin was a quiet for a moment. Then he said, slowly, “I guess I get it. There have been people I would have liked to stay with for longer, but it would have caused them too much heartbreak in the end.”

Zenigata wasn't sure for how long they remained by the fire, watching it grow smaller. He felt a stinging sensation all over him, like he was moving a limb that had fallen asleep. He enjoyed this mellow co-existence with Lupin. Everything would have to go back to normal once they left this cabin, and it made him anxious to bask in this calmness as much as he could. Memories of the time spent inside the cabin would ease his loneliness later.

Lupin let him help sort his grandmother's things. A lot of it was trash, like the tin cans, but every now and then Zenigata found something he didn't know what to make of, so he had to ask. After a while, it turned into a steady conversation, and then Lupin began to tell him about his family. Maybe he needed to sort out his feelings just as much as the mountains of junk.

Lupin's grandmother had been Japanese. She'd traveled across the sea to see the world after her family had started insisting she marry the man they'd picked for her. She'd decided that the promises the Americas offered were more tempting. She'd been self-educated and had an interest in engineering, so it must have felt like trying out her wings for the first time.

“People think I got my wandering spirit from my father's side, but that's only a fraction of it,” Lupin said. He turned to look up at the ceiling. “I think of this as my grandma's cabin, but she didn't actually settle down here until after grandpa had grown ill. She spent most of her life traveling by herself.”

Lupin didn't speak as much of his grandfather. He'd been the son of Japanese immigrants who'd built a life for themselves in Canada because the winters reminded them of their home in Hokkaido. It didn't sound like a grand love story, but he'd been someone for Lupin's grandmother to return to for periods of time when she'd needed something steady. They'd never married. 

“She had my mom here, but took her with her and raised her on the go. And then _she_ met my father in France, but that got a little messy.”

The way he talked, Zenigata was surprised Lupin had spent so much time at the cabin as a child. Perhaps his grandmother had wanted to give him something steady, too, in a family full of travelers. Something to call a home, something where he'd be welcome if he abandoned his father's line of work.

They worked through the night until Zenigata could no longer hold back a yawn. He was used to going on with little sleep, but Lupin urged for him to have some rest. They had time, he said, since the storm outside wasn't showing any signs of settling.

He must have been more tired than he'd thought because a moment later, Zenigata snapped out of a shallow sleep when Lupin put a plate of oatmeal in front of him. He needed a moment to remember where he was and why.

“It's plain, but it's hot,” Lupin explained and sat down by his side so that they could both enjoy the remaining fire. They'd stopped feeding it earlier since the fireplace was good at restoring warmth, and keeping it going non-stop might burn the cabin down if they weren't careful.

“Ow, a little too hot,” Zenigata said after testing it. He put the plate down to cool.

Lupin was pushing his food around on his plate. At first, Zenigata thought he was trying to get it to cool down, too, but then he noticed the unfocused look in his eyes. He was thinking about something else entirely.

“You should get some sleep,” he said. There was no answer at first, so he repeated himself, then got closer to shake Lupin's shoulder to find out if he was still awake. That was when Lupin turned to look at him, sharply enough to startle him.

“Pops, I have a favor to ask.”

“Yeah? What is it?” Zenigata removed his hand from Lupin's shoulder, but the other grabbed it back. He traced Zenigata's knuckles with his fingertips, but what he said next surprised him more than that.

“Now that you know about this place, I'd be happy if you were careful when you come back to raid it with the police later. Don't let them break everything or take too many things away, even the trash.”

“What? Is that what's bothering you?”

A thought hit him with such force that for a moment he didn't breathe. When Lupin had saved him in the storm, he had done so believing that he'd lose his grandmother's cabin. Of course he'd think that Zenigata would come back and bring a team with him to turn the place upside down in search of evidence. With the ICPO knowing the location, it'd be hard for Lupin to return in a long time, perhaps ever.

And he'd still brought him here. Lupin valued him that much.

“That's... You know, I don't think...” Zenigata felt like he'd forgotten how to speak. The fireplace seemed to be radiating much more heat than only a moment ago. “I don't think there's any evidence here. I mean, you said yourself that you haven't been here in ages, so...”

“And you believe me?”

“Of course I believe you! I have no reason to come back here, or tell anyone else about this place. I wouldn't do that to you.”

“Our little secret, huh?”

Lupin laughed, more relieved than amused, and plopped against him to rest his head on Zenigata's shoulder. The sudden contact made Zenigata yelp in surprise and nearly kick over his oatmeal, and he needed most of his willpower not to push Lupin away out of instinct.

“Thanks. That's a weight off my back,” Lupin said and craned his neck to look up at him.

It crossed Zenigata's mind that maybe Lupin had told him all of his family stories in preparation for this moment to make him feel sentimental enough to leave the cabin alone. Maybe none of those stories had been true. But he wanted to think Lupin wouldn't lie to him about things like that. 

“No need to thank me. I'd feel pretty lousy about myself if I did that after you saved my life. Let's just say we're even. Now stop clinging to me. I'm not your pillow.”

“Really? I was so sure you were a guy who's into cuddling. My bad.”

Lupin straightened his back, and Zenigata had a moment to realize he missed the weight of his head.

“Cops don't cuddle with the criminals they chase,” he muttered gruffly. And he didn't cuddle with people just for the fun of it.

“Who's here to see? I won't tell your boss,” Lupin said, and Zenigata was about to snap at him to stop the jokes and get serious. There were things he didn't want Lupin to make light of because he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to laugh along with him.

But then he saw not the slightest hint of amusement on Lupin's face and decided he deserved an equally serious answer.

“ _I'm_ here. That's all that matters. I don't want to play games.”

“What if I said that neither do I?”

Lupin shifted where he was sitting and brought himself closer. There was no mistaking what he was about to do, and Zenigata had just enough time to move aside before Lupin kissed him.

“Hey,” Lupin whined. “Don't be like that!”

“That's exactly what I should say to you!” For the first time, Zenigata let his anger flare up without trying to hold it back.

Lupin looked startled by his outburst, but even the brief anguish on his face that he quickly hid wasn't enough to make Zenigata calm down. No doubt he'd thought it'd be funny to see how far he could take this. Perhaps Lupin had known all along how Zenigata felt. If so, then there wasn't any point in trying to hide it anymore, but at least he'd defend his pride.

“Sorry, Pops,” Lupin said before Zenigata could put together a coherent sentence. “I guess I read you wrong. I was sure you'd like that.”

Had he been that obvious? Maybe, since people always told him he was too open with his feelings and let them influence his actions. But that didn't mean Lupin had the right to pull stunts like this. Not everything was fair game.

“Yeah, I'd like that. If it meant anything. I'm not going to let you make a fool of me like this.”

“Oh, yeah?” Lupin challenged, irritated. “So, the great inspector thinks he knows everything? Who said it wouldn't mean anything?”

“It's obvious. You and me, we can be either rivals or lov... uh, something else, but not both.”

“Why not?”

The reasons were endless. It'd ruin his career if anyone found out. Someone might blackmail him or Lupin with the information, or plan some clever trick to have revenge on either or both of them. They had enough enemies for that to be a risk. And would he really be able to put the man he loved behind bars? If he allowed himself to love Lupin any more than this, would it corrupt him?

Paradoxically, he was afraid that if he loved Lupin too much, he'd become unable to look him in the eyes anymore. It was easier to live thinking that Lupin could never return his feelings.

He hated the desperate sound in his voice. “You have no idea what you're playing with. I care more for you than you can imagine. It's not some silly game for me. I want –”

“I know what you want,” Lupin said. “It's fine. I want the same thing. Do you think I would have risked so much to save you, or told you all those things, if I didn't?”

Zenigata lowered his head, ready to cry. Lupin loved him. Him. Out of all the people in the world. It had been easy to think he'd feel joyous if that ever happened, but his sense of duty threatened to bury all happiness. He had long since resigned himself to nursing his feelings alone and being content with that, but if he could have more, how would he ever be able to keep doing what was expected of him, what was right?

“How could it ever work?” he asked.

“You said yourself that you can do what is right even if things become personal.”

“That was different. There's much more at stake here.”

“You think I'd lose my heart to some half-baked excuse of a cop who'd abandon his duty out of selfish reasons? I'll be the first to congratulate you if you ever put me in prison. Then I'll break out and invite you to dinner.”

Zenigata didn't know if he wanted to laugh or cry at the mental image. “Just what kind of a relationship would that even be?”

Lupin shrugged. “I don't think either of us is the type to settle down and live in married bliss. There might be some bumps in the road, but we can make it work.”

“Wouldn't you be worried that every time I'm with you, I'll wait until you're vulnerable and capture you?” This wasn't like two people from rival companies dating. He didn't have off hours. If he did anything with Lupin without trying to bring him in, wasn't it already a betrayal of everything he claimed to stand for?

“I know you're better than that. I trust you. We'll set boundaries.” Lupin gave him an exaggerated wink. “You can handcuff me in bed only when I say it's okay.”

He yawned and stretched his arms in a lazy fashion. “Not that you'd be able to do it against my will anyway. I'm not dumb. Dating me won't make your job any easier for you. If anyone finds out, tell them it's a long con. They might even give you a raise for all the effort, or at least cover the costs.”

The thought of submitting restaurant bills and gift receipts as work expenses was so absurd that it lifted Zenigata's mood somewhat. The reality was that he'd be risking his job and reputation if he went along with his feelings, but he was fine with that. He was already half-way there. He'd let Lupin get off the hook countless times when he'd felt there were bigger issues to worry about, or when Lupin had clearly been on the side of justice.

He found a lifeline in those memories. Lupin was a criminal, but he was also a good man. Couldn't he, then, be an inspector and a good man? There would be times when he'd give everything he had to arresting him, and times when he'd forget what roles they were supposed to play and just love the man he was. Or would that be too selfish?

“Do you really mean that?” he asked.

“What? About the handcuffs?”

“That this can work! I told myself it was okay to love you when nothing would ever come out of it, but now I'm scared where this might lead.”

“Well, isn't that how people always feel in the beginning of a relationship?” Lupin asked with a chuckle.

“To be honest, it's been so long that I barely remember.”

“Oh? Then I bet I'll have fun reminding you. Of a lot of things. If I try to kiss you again, will you let me?”

Zenigata didn't have to consider his answer. He knew that after this talk, he wouldn't be able to go back to how things had been. He wanted to see where they could go from here. If it was something bad, he should trust himself enough to recognize that and do what was right.

“Yes,” he said, and Lupin sunk into his embrace and draped one arm over his shoulder to map his back.

“Hmm. You're pretty tense, Pops.”

“I hope we can pull this off.”

“Performance anxiety?” Lupin offered lightly.

That might come later. He wasn't really in his prime anymore, at least compared to Lupin, if even half of what his big mouth said was true. But that was something Zenigata would deal with later.

“I'm worried this'll be everything I wanted, but then one of us decides it's not worth the trouble. We can't do most of the things other couples do together. Are you fine with that? It'll be lonely love.”

Lupin brought his hands to graze Zenigata's hair. “Isn't it already? Even if it's not everything we want, it's more than we had yesterday. I'd rather have a little bit of you than all of someone else.”

Zenigata didn't have an answer for that. His breath caught in his throat, he buried his face against Lupin's shoulder and felt the vibration of the other's laughter go through him. Then, lips on his neck, and he was sure everything would be fine.


End file.
